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around. Mehmet was gone.
    Meli's first thought was to wake up her father and tell him that Mehmet was missing. But for once Baba was sleeping soundly, and she couldn't bear to wake him only to give him bad news. Besides, Mehmet had probably just gone to the outhouse. She was worrying for nothing. That was it. She was just being her usual anxious self.
    She lay down again. Adil snuggled closer.
If it's this cold in September, whatever will we do come winter?
She turned so she could hear any movement of the tent flap. Whenever she heard the tiniest
blap blap,
she stiffened, willing Mehmet to come in and lie down, but each time it was only the wind.
    Finally, she couldn't hold still another second. She carefully lifted herself over Adil, one knee at a time, and felt the ground cloth along the flap. Then she began to paw frantically along the front of the tent.
Mehmet has taken his blanket.
She covered her mouth to keep from calling out and crawled through the flap of the tent to stand up outside in the chilled night air.
    She felt for her own shoes among the pile of family shoes before the tent. The cooler nights demanded that they all sleep in their clothes, which was a good thing. It meant she could scout around and try to find her brother before the rest of the family knew he was missing. She was sure that if Mehmet had told their parents he was leaving, he wouldn't have sneaked out in the middle of the night.
    Fortunately, there was enough moonlight for her to see her way around the makeshift shelters in the family encampment. Mehmet wouldn't be in one of those, she was sure. She took a deep breath and headed up through the trees toward the camp-fires of the KLA. She hadn't gone very far before she felt cold metal poking into her backbone. A flashlight shone in her face, blinding her. "It's only a little girl," a man's rough voice said, and then asked, "Where are you going in the middle of the night, child? Did you miss your way to the toilet?"
    "I'm looking for my brother." She couldn't help the quaver in her voice, even though she told herself that the fighters wouldn't hurt her. Indeed, the gun was no longer on her back.
    "How old is your brother?" the voice behind her asked.
    "Thirteen."
    "Oh," said the voice. "I thought you meant
little
brother. Don't worry. Your brother can take care of himself. Now go back to your tent like a good girl and don't go prowling around where you don't belong."
    "His—his name is Mehmet Lleshi. If you see him, will you tell him his family ... his family is anxious about him?"
    The flashlight was lowered, and the voice behind it said gently, "Really, there's no need to worry. Your brother is fine, I'm sure. Go on back now, child, and get some sleep."
    It was useless to argue. She turned back toward the family encampment and crept into the tent. Isuf and Adil had rolled over against each other. She pushed them apart as gently as she could and lay down again between them.
    "Meli?" Of course Mama would wake up.
    "It's all right, Mama. I just went out to—to relieve myself." She heard her mother roll over, grunting a bit as she did so.
    It was impossible to fall asleep again. She tried to keep from tossing and turning in the narrow wedge between her brothers. The night stretched on and on, until at last morning pierced the cracks around the tent flap and surrounded the canvas with its weak warmth.
    Baba cleared his throat, got to his feet, and—hunched over so that he wouldn't brush the top of the tent—stepped carefully over Isuf, Meli, and Adil, pausing briefly at the empty spot that should have been Mehmet. Then he raised the flap and went outdoors. Meli got up and followed him out.
    "Mehmet's gone," she said.
    "So I see," he said.
    "He took his blanket."
    Baba nodded. "Tell your mother to start the fire and feed you. As soon as I gather the firewood, I'll go look for him."
    Everyone wanted to know where Baba and Mehmet were, but Meli just told them that Baba had said they were not to wait